Polished
by OhioAmerica
Summary: Something sinister lurks in the air at the G8 World Conference Hall. China has gone missing... only to be rediscovered as a solid block of gemstone! Time is of the essence as the nations work to unravel the mysterious curse that hangs over their heads. Alliances are made, secrets are kept, and anyone could be next.
1. Chapter 1: Missing

It was hard to say when the others first noticed that something was not right. A few caught on more quickly than others. Some buried their suspicions inside and carried on as usual. Others began to work frantically to solve an unanswerable riddle that grew heavier a burden on their minds each day. To be accurate however, one must start with the disappearance of Wang Yao.

Everything was as it should have been that day. One by one the G8 lined up outside the World Conference Hall for their monthly discussions and debates. America, with a clip on tie sporting his national flag and set of blueprints tucked under his arm, called out a greeting to Spain and Greece, as he usually did to all the nations in the morning.

"Hola America." responded Spain with a grin, "How's the market?"

"Doing good dude, how 'bout you guys?"

"Er, well, we're getting there, you know." he said, scratching his head.

He gave them a thumbs up and rushed off and down the hall. France, as usual, was flirting with the cleaning staff outside the meeting room. England gave him a sideways sneer and grumbled something indecent.

" _Excusez moi Monsieur?_ " France cried, placing a hand on his hip. "What was that, black sheep of Europe?"

"Will you shut up about that already!" he cried, smacking France in the head with a rolled up newspaper he had moments before been skimming.

America grinned widely as he came bounding past the two old foes and stopped outside the door as he spotted his friend Japan, who seemed to be in a deep conversation with Russia. Rudely Interrupting their conversation, he greeted them loudly.

"Hey Japan! Hey Russia!" he called. "What up, dudes?"

"Oh," said Japan, sighing softly, "nothing much. Russia was just asking me if I had any idea on where China-san might be."

America shrugged, "I don't know, maybe he skipped out on the meeting and went to build another Chinatown or something?"

Russia shrugged.

"I don't know America," he said. "He hasn't been answering his cell phone for the past two days now."

Japan nodded vigorously. "He never goes this long without answering. I'm starting to worry."

"Aye, don't worry bros! Im sure he'll show up!" America said, patting them both on the shoulders.

" _Anyways,_ " he added in the same happy-go-lucky tone. "he can't stay hidden for long. He still hasn't delivered my merchandise yet _._ "

Russia and Japan glanced at one another and then back at America.

"Thank you America. You're probably right."

"No prob dude." he said,before bounding back down the hall to go pester England.

A little while later, after the rest of the G8 had arrived, everyone settled into their seats around the oval table as they prepared themselves for the first lecture. China, America noticed, was still no where to be seen.

The first speaker was Germany, who was setting up several diagrams bearing statistics on international trade and tariff. As he fumbled with a rolled up poster board, Italy yawned loudly.

"I didn't sleep at all last night!" he complained to whoever was sitting next to him. "My stomach was hurting so bad, I felt like I was going to be sick!"

"Maybe you should cut back on all that pizza you're eating," England suggested. "You most definitely cannot maintain a healthy lifestyle with all that cheese you're consuming."

America and France snapped their heads around. " _Are you making fun of me?!_ ", they accused simultaneously.

"Not everything I say is about you wankers, you know!"

"Can you all quiet down, I'm trying to present here!" growled Germany.

"You've been talking?" America asked innocently.

Germany clenched his teeth together as he practically fumed. "Maybe if you all listened for a change we would actually get things done around here!"

"What's there to discuss?" Russia asked. "Just sign over everything to me and we can all leave early, da?"

"For the last time, you're not getting Italy!"

Almost no one noticed amongst the noise that a visitor slipped through the doors into the large meeting room, frazzled and out of breath.

"Hey!" he shouted, waving his arms toward the G8.

"Hong Kong?" Japan replied, confused by his sudden interference.

"Excuse me, but we are in a very important meeting right now," Germany explained sternly. "If you were to come back in an hour or so-"

"It's about China. Something's gone horribly wrong!"

"What?!"

As if in unison, Japan and Russia sprang from their seats, chairs loudly scraping against the floor and rushed towards the door, following Hong Kong.

"What?" Germany howled, accent growing thicker. "You can't just get up and leave during-"

"Hey dudes, wait for me!" America yelled as he raced off after the trio.

"Now what did that boy do?" England hissed as he and France followed in America's footsteps.

"Maybe I can help in some way?" a voice asked from the corner of the room.

"Canada?!" Germany exclaimed. "When did you get here?!"

"Ve~ C'mon Germany!" Italy complained, clinging on to his arm. "Let's go, let's go!"

Germany frowned as he rubbed his temples. _Why must I be stuck with these imbeciles?_ Brushing Italy off, Germany grinded his teeth and made his way for the door, him and Italy having to dart to catch up with the others.


	2. Chapter 2: Bloodstone

"What… happened?"

The countries stood in absolute silence as they approached China's hotel room. He had booked in advance for the conference trip, in which he had only anticipated staying at for a weekend at most. Most of them did, considering many lived an oceans length away from each other. The room was dark, save for the ribbon of light escaping from a part in the drawn curtains. Not a single breath was exhaled as they approached the scene.

China, or what looked to be China, laid in a heap on the floor, legs pulled in close to his sides and head bent down, loose hair obscuring his face. He was still, unmoving, and did not appear to be breathing.

What was worse, he was covered in mold.

Or, it looked like mold at first glance, any exposed skin appearing a charcoal black, contrasting dramatically with his normal pigment . To be more specific, black, sprinkle with little red spores. Japan let out a stifled gasp, as America let out several obscenities. Russia flipped the light switches, and ran to China's side in a mad fury. The other nations were right on his heels, rushing to the side of what used to be China's body.

"What is this?!" exclaimed Germany, holding up one of China's arms, then dropping it quickly. "This feels like solid rock!"

Russia knelt down next to China, and felt his skin himself.

"It's so… smooth." he choked. "Like an amulet stone."

He propped China's face up, then gasped in horror. The black speckled stone seemed to be in the middle devouring his face, slowly creeping up his neck to his chin, morphing the soft skin into solid rock.

"Ahh!" Italy cried, covering his eyes. "What's going on with China?!"

" _China._ " moaned Russia, brushing his fingers across China's face. " _China, why?_ "

England knelt down besides the mourning Russian, and examined the nation's mortal body.

" _Bloodstone._ " he deduced, eyes narrowing. "the martyr's gem."

"How could this have happened to China-san?!" Japan cried. "It's impossible, this can't be happening!"

"Dark magic is at play here." England continued, voice grim. "Whatever or whoever is responsible for this must be very strong to have placed a curse such as this on an immortal being such as China."

"Can you fix him?" Russia asked, tears welling up in his eyes.

Russia had never shown this much emotion over another living thing before, which made the others wonder just _how close_ he was to China, or what their relationship meant to him.

England shook his head sadly. "Im sorry, but there is nothing I can do beyond this point. If only I had my research materials with me, I might have be able to stop the spreading earlier on. It won't do much use now though, considering how far the curse has already progr-"

"No!" Russia cried, shaking his head and clinging to China's lifeless body. "You have to do something! He didn't live five thousand years just to go out like this!"

England's voice was serious. "Look Russia, if I could, I would-"

"Then why don't you try harder!" he screamed.

As if by some unlucky consequence, the bloodstone started to creep up China's face again, this time harding all the way up to the fleshy part of his nose.

"No! Stop!" howled Russia, pleading with the stone, desperately trying to rub it away.

"Russia-" America began, sensing the nation's hysteria and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"No! No!" he continued to cry, ripping away from America. "China! _China!_ "

"America." Germany said, turning him away from the sobbing Russian, who was now accompanied by Japan and Hong Kong, who looked over the body with equal horror and misery.

America nodded. It was best to leave the mourning nations alone. One by one the others departed, giving their condolences and whispering to each other under their breath. England was the last to go. He told America that he wanted to stay a little longer to convince Russia to hand over the body for research purposes. If anyone had any idea where to begin looking for answers, it was England.

Germany and Italy exited the building together, and hailed a cabby to take them back to their own hotel. Germany doubted anyone would be getting a good night's sleep, but it would be best to at least try so that he would be able to have a level-headed approach to the situation in the morning. Being a very logical man, Germany was quite shaken by what he had experienced today. What happen to China was one conflict he never could have imagined would pose a real threat. After today however, Germany was reconsidering his whole outlook on the world.

He and Italy got into the backseat of the cabby, just as a light rain started to trickle down from the heavens. Italy leaned his face against the window and peered out, almost in a dreamlike trance. Germany closed his eyes and crossed his arms against his chest, just sitting and breathing, and trying to clear his tired mind. The whole day had been mentally taxing, and he desperately wanted to return home for rest.

"Germany?" Italy's voice called, mouselike.

"Yes, what is it?" he responded, eyes still closed.

"Nothing is going to happen to me, is it?"

Germany opened his eyes, surprised by his comrade's childish question. How should he be able to know? Didn't the Italian know that what happened to China was out of his sphere of control?

Germany was about to voice his inner thoughts when he then looked down into Italy's eyes. They peered at him, half-open, and tired. He just looked so sweet, so innocent. Italy was a true child at heart;would it be right to lay down the harsh reality on him? Germany faltered, and stopped himself before he could say anything else.

After a moment, he said, "Italy, I promise, as long as you're with me, no harm will ever come to you. Any curse that could hurt _you_ is going to have to go through _me_ first, _no exceptions_."

Italy yawned quietly, and nuzzled his head against the German's shoulder, using him as a pillow.

"That's nice to know." he murmured, beginning dozing off. "Thank you, Germany." he added, before coughing a little and closing his eyes.

 _You're welcome, Italy._


	3. Chapter 3: Diamond

It had almost been three days since England heard any word on the mysterious curse.

He had just been arguing with several Chinese officials who accused him of conspiring against their nation's personification, when he was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. Relived to have an excuse to break away from the stubborn conspiracists, he pardoned himself from the meeting, and exited the spacious conference room to answer his call.

"Hello-" He barely got a proper greeting before being interrupted by the hysterical voice on the other end of the line.

"England!" the voice cried. England recognised his thick German accent immediately. "You have to get over to Italy's place right now! Something's happening to him!"

"Huh?" he said, startled. "Germany, what's happened?"

"I don't know." he groaned from the other end, voice stressed and frantic. "They've started developing these little… patches or something!"

"Wait, they? You mean Romano's being affected too?"

"Well, yes, the two are one in the same, both representing Italy. They share a link of some sort- whatever happens to one happens to the other. Spain's just brought Romano over-"

"Don't move." demanded England, grabbing his briefcase and sprinting off towards the exit. The meeting and business suit were just going to have to wait. It would take at least ten hours on commerical, six on private jet. There was not a minute to waste. Whatever the curse was, it was lethal: and this time, there was _double_ the victims. England cursed under his breath, scolding himself for not having done more digging into the subject as he should have.

But then, who could have guessed that this would have happened again?

Back in the states, America's cell phone began to beep. He looked over at it groggily from a pile of papers he had began to start drooling on. Had he fallen asleep amidst sorting through the paperwork? _Whoa._ he thought as he unlocked his cell. _Forty-three new messages?_ He grinned to himself. _Damn I'm popular today._

However, once America started to scroll through the multiple texts logs, his mood changed drastically.

August 14, 20XX 11:20 am

To: America

From: Spain

something's wrong with Romano. he's not eating or talking, just making weird gurgling noises. he's been pretty sick the past couple of days now, but now his skin is turning weird textures. what do i do?

August 14, 20XX 12:31 am

From: Germany

To: America

something wrong with italy. hard transparent patches on his skin. COME IMMEDIATELY.

August 14, 20XX 12:35 am

From: England

To: America

I'm heading over to Italy's place, germany thinks the curse has spread to both italy and romano. tell the others to meet me there. HURRY.

The rest of the same messages where along the same lines, just sent from several different nations. He did some quick math in his head. If it was around twelve when those messages had been sent, it must have been six am in Italy. That meant it would be around 12 pm when he arrived there.

"God dang it!" he yelled, hastily pulling on a light sweater and darting to the door. When he got there, it may already be too late. _Why was this happening?_ First China, now the _Italian brothers_? Who was behind all this, and why were they targeting other nations? As far as he knew, China and Italy had no obvious connections. Could it all just be seemingly random?

America dialed his cell as he ran on to the streets of his favorite city, New York.

"Hey Tony." he said breathlessly. "This is an emergency, dude. Can you beam me and the others up to Italy. Preferably pronto?"

Tony responded in some garbled alien speech that no one but America could understand, though it sounded positive.

"Thanks bro! _You da man!_ " he said, as a flash of white light levitated him off the concrete and up into an unseen spacecraft above. In a blink of light, he was gone, leaving several tourists and pedestrians mesmerized and confused.

"Thank you, America. I thought for sure I wouldn't get here in time." England said as he and the other G8 nations were beamed down on to Vargas estate: a luxurious villa and vineyard, splashed with colors of the rising sun, colors blending warmly together like that of a painting. It was no wonder the land had once been the prized land of the mighty roman empire; it was absolutely stunning in everyway.

However, now a dark cloud hung over the land: unspoken curiosity and trepidation for what was yet to come. Russia, America noticed seemed to be the calmest of the group- a stark contrast to the muddled mess he had been not even a full three days before. Was it that he had come to terms with China's fate and simply let it go? The nation had been through so much in the past, and pain was just something he had been mentally prepared to block out. Or was something else brewing in the Russian's mind? His level-headedness chilled the American. It just was not natural.

As they entered the mansion, the tension that clogged the air only grew stronger. Some of the household servants peeked out from behind doorways, whispering to each other under their breath, presumably about the mysterious condition of their master. One of them, a young woman with a long braid going down her back, lead the way down twisting hallways and and large doorways. Finally, they came to a set of closed doors, heavy and wooden, at the end of the corridor. The servant's face grew grim as she stepped up and knocked.

" _C-_ _Ciao?_ " she trembled. " _Gli altri sono arrivati , possono entrare?_ "

The doors were opened by Spain, whose entire appearance was disheveled, and whose eyes bore dark shadows of a worried man's. He thanked the servant girl, who nodded and scampered off.

"Ah, hi my friends." Spain greeted, trying to smile, though the cracking of his voice gave the charade away. "Come in."

The nations crowded into the master bedroom, taking in their surroundings.

Both North and South Italy laid next to each other, side by side on a king sized bed, unmoving and sickly looking. Germany sat besides them, wringing out a damp cloth over a bucket and laying it over Veneziano's forehead. Then he wrung a different piece of cloth and did the same for Romano. It was clear that the German had been up for hours, despite how early it may be. Like Spain, his eyes were dark and racoon-like, and his entire appearance rushed and sloppily put together.

"Oh thank God," he said, trying to keep his voice quiet for Italy. "you're here. I thought you wouldn't make it in time."

Germany seemed to be hanging on the assumption that England would have a solution. Unfortunately, nothing could be more far from the truth.

"How far has it spread?" England asked, avoiding his eyes.

"A few small patches up their arms and on their backs. Nothing like China, but-" he bit his lip, paleing slightly. " _It just keeps spreading._ "

England leaned in closer over the bodies of the Italian brothers. Carefully, he rolled up Veneziano's sleeve of his soft, cotton nightgown and examined his arm.

" _Oh mon Dieu_." France uttered breathlessly. "Is that-"

"Yes. It's diamond." England concluded, turning the country's wrist so that light shone through the patchwork of skin and gem, reflecting the light in odd ways so translucent shadows dancing over the sleeping nation's face.

"When did you first notice this was occurring?" England asked professionally.

"Just a little after two this morning. He called me in hysteria after vomiting up quite a few gemstones."

" _He vomited up gemstones?_ " America repeated, horrified.

"Nothing very large." Germany continued. "But sharp enough to cause a lot of discomfort."

One of the brothers coughed loudly, before shifting uncomfortably and groggily uttering, " _It hurts. It hurts bad._ "

"They couldn't stop vomiting and screaming." Spain said, shaking his head. "One moment we would calm them down, and then a minute later this sharp pain would go through one of them and they would start hollering again. Luckily, Germany was able to put them under anesthesia, but even that took a while."

 _If I don't find a way to stop this, these two are going to be perfect paragons soon,_ thought England. He turned to face the others

"Would you all just give me a minute alone with the brothers. I want to try out some out some basic healing incarnations to see if I can break through any of the curse's binds."

The others nodded solemnly, though Spain and Germany seemed reluctant to leave their bedside vigil over the brothers.

" _Germany-san._ " Japan urged, delicately placing a hand on his shoulder.

"You're right." he said after a moment, standing up and inclining his head.

"I'll be done shortly." England said. "So you can return soon."

"Yes." he responded quietly. "I know."

He looked down one last time at the sleeping Italian whom he had spent much of his time, _decades even_ , with. After a moment of fingering with his necklace, he removed it from his own self, and placed it it Veneziano's hand, carefully closing his fingers around it, then gently whispering:

"Since you lost the first one. _Ich liebe dich Italia_."

England knew enough German to feel his heart grow tight in his chest. _Was this what love looked like?_ Germany joined the others outside, walking away slowly from the one he held so dear.

Only Spain remained. England nodded towards him, not wanting to be rude, but also wanting to make it clear that they were pressed for time. Spain tilted his head, seeming to understand.

"Don't worry Romano." he said, brushing strands of hair away from his closed eyes. "You'll be better soon. Señor England will find a way."

He gave him a soft kiss on the forehead, and smiled sadly. Then, after meeting England' eyes one last time, Spain walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

England felt like a monster.

As soon as the footsteps from outside faded away and he was sure there were no watchful eyes in the room, England pulled something long and flat from inside his suit. He walked over to the Italian brothers, kneeling before them. _God,_ how could he live with himself? It was clear how much these two were loved and cherished, it felt like a sin to even come close to their dying bodies, much less defile them. It was the only way though. He _needed_ samples of the newly forming crystalis. China's body was already too old to be studied by the time he had arrived at England's alchemic laboratory. What was needed, was a blood sample.

Blood from a living, breathing specimen.

Blood that had not yet frozen in place, choking the organs of nutrients, and shutting them down one by one, slowly and painfully.

England delicately lifted up Veneziano's arm, rolling down his sleeve to the point where diamond meet flesh. He pulled out a ziploc from his briefcase, emptying it of pens and extra lead. His hands shook violently as he held up the blade to the young Italian's arm. Taking a deep breath, he composed himself, trying not to think about what he was doing. _It's for the best._

And then, England began to slice away at his arm, carving out where the skin had already solidified into diamond, removing the surrounding flesh along with it. After a minute, he had a bloodied chunk of flesh and stone. England grabbed one of the rags used to dampen their foreheads, and wrapped it around the section where blood had began to seep from the wounds, and then pulled his sleeve down to cover it. He then placed the dissected diamond into his ziploc, and got to work on the second brother.

It was painstaking, revolting work, but soon, the nation was finished with the dirty task, and walked back out the door as if nothing had happened.


	4. Chapter 4: Gold

Japan was sitting outside of Greece's house, reclining in a cushioned chair, and shaded from the sun by the gazebo's roof. Just a stroll away, the pleasantly warm waves lapped at the shoreline, brilliantly blue turning foaming froth. Up ahead, extended their wings to the heavens, and took off gracefully against pale aqua of the sky. He sighed, soaking in the warm rays of the sun and enjoying the peaceful repetitiveness of the ocean. It was refreshing to escape from the anarchy of the past few days. Greece seemed to sense that Japan was feeling drained, both emotionally and physically, from the past couple of days. So, Greece welcomed him with open arms to come over to his private beach house for tea. Japan humbly accepted the invitation.

Greece walked out from the modest house, carrying a tray that clattered loudly as he walked down the uneven path of wooden planks that connected the two structures. Japan noticed that he was using the same tea set that he had gifted to him a few years ago for the anniversary of the _Greek War of Independence_. He set down the tray on the small, round table that sat between the two chairs, and proceeded to pour a cup for the both of them.

Japan thanked him, raising the cup to his lips, and taking a sip of green tea. Greece looked at him curiously.

"Is it okay?"

Japan nodded. "Yes, you've made it quite good. Thank you."

Greece smiled at his response, and sat down, scooting his chair in.

"So," he said, easily. "How have you been doing?"

Japan took a minute to respond. "Honestly, it has been absolute anarchy these past few days. First China, then Italy…" He trailed off, a distant look in his eyes.

"I know this is a sensitive subject," Greece began, tilting his head in interest. "but would it be okay if you told me more about the incidents surrounding China and Italy? I've only heard rumors, but…"

He blushed and scratched his mop of wavy chestnut hair. "I'm sorry, you came here to get your mind _off_ all of this."

"No." Japan said, expecting some curiosity from his sleepy friend. "I understand, it's okay to want to know what has happened. Unfortunately, I can honesty say that I probably only know as much as you do."

"I see…" he said thoughtfully.

The two sat in silence for a minute contemplating silently.

"You know," Greece said quietly, taking a sip of his tea. "There is a story in my culture that is similar to the rumors I've heard."

"Really?" Japan asked. Greece's stories always piqued his interest.

"Yes. Would you like to hear it?"

Japan nodded vigorously. "Absolutely."

Greece closed his eyes, as if reminiscing on some distant past life.

"There once was a man named Midas. He was a king of great fortune who ruled the country of Phrygia, in Asia Minor. He had everything a king could wish for: the luxury in a great castle, a life of careless abundance, and his beautiful daughter, whom he prized above all others."

"That sounds pretty nice, what happened to the king?"

Well, though he was very rich, Midas thought that his greatest happiness was provided by gold. He would spend countless hours locked away in his room, fawning over his riches, even counting all his gold coins! Sometimes, he would cover his body with gold objects, as if he wanted to bathe in them. Money was his obsession; his life's one desire. One day, the great god of wine and revelry, Dionysus, passed through the kingdom of Midas. One of his followers, a satyr named Silenus, got delayed along the way and decided to take a nap in the famous rose gardens surrounding the palace of King Midas. He was later found by the king, who recognized him instantly and invited him to spend a few nights at his palace. After that, Midas took him back to Dionysus. The god was very grateful to Midas for his kindness, and promised to satisfy any wish the old king might have. Midas thought for a while and then said:

I wish that everything I touch becomes gold.

Dionysus warned the king to think twice about his wish, but Midas was positive that he had made the right choice.

Dionysus could do nothing else and promised the king that from that following day everything he touched would turn into gold. The next day, Midas, woke up eager to see if his wish would become true. He extended his arm touching a small table that immediately turned into gold. He then touched a chair, the carpet, the door, his bathtub, and a table. The old king was practically buzzing with excitement. After all, he wish had been granted, and now, he would be rich forever."

"Well that doesn't sound _too bad_." Japan said, tapping his chin. "But there's usually more to these type of stories,isn't there?"

Greece nodded again. "You really _have been listening_ to me. Well then, it won't surprise you that the very morning sat at the table to have breakfast. He reached for a rose from the centerpiece that sat on the table,so that he might smell it, but as soon as his fingers closed around its stem, the rose turned to gold. He was disappointed because the flower no longer smelled of the pleasant outdoors, but instead of hard meal. Without even thinking, he popped a grape into his mouth. Almost choking, he realized that _it too_ had also turned into a gold nugget. The same happened with a slice of bread and a glass of water. Suddenly, he started to feel an overwhelming sense of fear. Tears filled his eyes as he fell to a muddled mess at the foot of his throne. Not even the servants would come near him!

That moment, his beloved daughter entered the room. Without him noticing, his daughter came up behind him, unaware of her father's new curse. Only did King Midas realize his daughter was so close to him was when she tackled him with a hug from behind. Horrified, he watched as she turned to gold, her terrified face frozen in time. Soon, she was nothing but a lifeless statue."

 _Just like China-san,_ Japan thought grimly

"Consumed with grief over what he had just done, the king raised his arms and prayed to Dionyssus to take the dreadful curse from him. The god pitied Midas, and told him to go to river Pactolus and wash his hands. The king did as the god instructed, and ran to the river. He was astonished to see gold flowing in bright streams from his hands as he dipped them in the water. When he turned home, everything King Midas had touched had become normal again. Midas hugged his daughter in joyous relief and decided to share his great fortune with his people. From that day on, the king became a better person, generous and grateful for all goods of his life, and followed loyally by his people until the day he died." finished Greece with the dramatic flourish of an experienced storyteller.

The two nations sat quietly with each other for a minute, silently sipping their tea and listening to the soothing song of the waves.

"So," Japan asked, "the moral of the story, as most of your stories usually have morals-"

"Don't give into greed." answered Greece, smiling slightly. "Be thankful for what you have, and more importantly, _the people_ you share your life with."

Japan felt Greece's eyes staring intently in his direction, probably waiting for him comment on the moral. Maybe something more? _There is_ so much _more I wish to confess to you Greece-san._

Instead, he went for a more practical response. "There's much we can learn from your philosophies."

"I'm very glad you think so."

Japan glanced towards the tea set. While they were talking, he hadn't realized how much had been drank. The afternoon sun was already starting to dip into the sky above.

"It seems as if I had overstayed my welcome." he said, standing up, and bowing. "Thank you again for the tea."

"It's been no problem." Greece said, pushing in his chair behind him, and returning Japan's bow. "Can I walk you back to the main part of town?"

"O-of course." Japan stuttered, suddenly uncomfortable with the idea of Greece wanting to spend _even more_ time with him. _What was Greece trying to tell him?!_ Surely it was just him being a courteous host…. right?

Suddenly, his phone began to vibrate loudly in his pocket, breaking his excited stream of thoughts. Japan had forgotten it was on, and blushed before looking at the caller ID. _Germany-san? What could he be calling about?_ Japan's stomach dropped with sudden realization.

"I'm sorry Greece-kun." he said, stumbling over his words as he rushed along the wooden pathway. "Maybe next time, I got to go. _Arigatō!_ "

"You...too." Greece lazily waved back, confused and curious about his friend's need to rush off.

 _Just hang on a little longer Italia-chan,_ Japan thought as he answered the call, still running.

 _Just wait a little longer._


	5. Chapter 5: Meeting

August 18 was the date of the next world conference.

This time, only five nations attended.

For the time being, only six of the original eight were alive: England, America, France, Japan, and Germany. The last choose not to attend the meeting that day, as he was consumed by a great grief, and prefered to by left alone for the time being. It was a justified grief. The one he loved most had passed the night before, not in utter agony as China had, but instead ceased breathing in a peaceful sleep, when the diamond finally took hold of his, and his brother's, heart. The others received the grim news, and called for the remaining nations to get together immediately.

Russia was the first to address the group.

"It had became clear that in these times we need to stay on guard. Whatever forces are at play here are obviously working against us. Already two nations have fallen victim to this, this _curse_." he paused for effect. "And therefore we must work diligently against the clock before yet another of us if affected. We _will_ work together."

He held himself in a way that one might command an army of soldiers. Russia was taking it upon himself to take authority over the group. The way everyone just submitted to the Russian bothered America. He preferred a more democratic approach to the situation. As one said, _absolute power corrupts absolutely_. America did not say any of this, of course. It scorched his pride enough to _not_ be able to have a solution to this situation; what good would it do to stand in the way of an organized campaign find one?

Russia shifted his attention to England. "England will be the head of our research department from now on. He is the most knowledgeable in the dark arts, and will work towards finding a way to prevent the curse from spreading to anyone else."

England nodded, as he already been secretly looking into the matter on his own time.

"In the meantime," he continued. "if anyone, G8 or otherwise, feels _any_ change, _anything at all_ , they are to report it. We cannot afford to lose another one of our comrades. We must catch this curse in its early stages, and isolate the affected victim until we know for sure how it spreads, and how it takes to develop."

"You make this sound like it's some sort of disease." France said, resting his head on his arm, deep circles under his eyes.

"Isn't it?" Russia responded grimly.

"It seems to only be affecting G8 members so far," Japan said, rubbing his chin. "So we should be on highest alert. Was there any similarities between the cases? Anything anyone noticed that happened before the curse took hold?"

"It's hard to make connections that way." England said, crossing his arms. "China wasn't seen for days before we found his body."

"What about Italy?" America asked, sitting up. "Remember how he was getting those bad stomach aches and coughing fits before?"

England shrugged off his proposal. "Could have just been side effects of the recession."

"Well come on!" America shouted. "What is there to work with! How do _you_ expect to do anything? We don't know _shit_! _Anyone_ could be next. How long are we going to wait around before another of us turns to stone?"

Russia's cell phone began to vibrate loudly in his pocket. He looked at the caller ID with a curious look on face.

"Yes, hello?"

"Yes, this is him.

"Uh huh."

"What?!"

Russia stuffed his phone in his pocket and dashed for the door.

"I'm to Germany." He said, before disappearing. "This meeting is dismissed."


	6. Chapter 6: Sapphire

England shuffled around in his library, looking for something, _anything_ , relating to the curse. After all, he did have the most extensive collection of magical and supernatural texts in all of Europe, even more than Romania and Norway. It seemed as if it there should have been no problem in finding the materials he needed, but alas, he turned up only dust and vague references.

Fingernails turning to onyx, maidens turning to amethyst, a chief with turquoise skin: old legends and myths made up for the amusement of the ancient people, but had little practical use to him. He had been digging through the deep depths of his shelves for hours now, and was really starting to get frustrated.

His phone chirped in his pocket, interrupting the vast silence that had surrounded him, undisturbed, for hours. _That's funny, I thought I told my boss to postpone any meetings for today._

A creeping suspicion settled over him: there was only one explanation for any cell phone calls, though he prayed to God that he was mistaken. He answered the call, hands shaking, and listened to the voice on the other end.

The phone clattered to the ground.

Almost an hour later, England burst through the doors of France's house, shaking its very foundation with his rage. He soon spotted Russia in the corner of the living room, looking down at his cell phone.

"Where is he?!" England exclaimed, rushing over to get an answer.

"Who?" he asked innocently, barely looking up for more than half a second.

"You know who you Goddamn wanker! Where's France?!"

Russia stared at him, cold-faced. "He's in his sleeping quarters, being cared for by some of his household staff. You can't go in there, my scientists suspect that the curse is somehow transmitted between countries, and you are just too important to lose. They say-"

"To Hell with your scientists!" exclaimed England, storming past the Russia, and running up the grand staircase.

"England, wait-"

He knocked violently on the doors to his bedroom, giving one of the servants quite a start as she opened them thinking he was Russia.

" _En…gland?_ " a meek voice called out, devoid of its usual spunk and seductiveness.

"Oh Lord." England said as he approached his bedside, where his old foe laid helplessly, a rag covering his forehead, eyes puffy.

"How did this happen?" he asked, "You were completely fine just the other day!"

France looked up at England, and gave what looked to be some sort of half-shrug. It was obvious from his squinting face that even little movements were incredibly painful for him. He swallowed hard, eyes fluttering.

" _I thought that Russia told you not to come here._ "

"And you believed that? What a stupid old frog you are."

France smiled, moving his head slightly.

" _It's not so bad now._ " he said raspily. " _You've missed most of the vomiting for now. Soon, they'll sedate me, and I won't have to suffer any longer._ "

England shook his head, trying to hide his moist eyes with his hair. "I won't let you go, you git." Hi voice cracked; even his insults were half-hearted now.

" _It could be worse._ " France responded. " _Look at my hand._ "

England hesitated, not wanting to cause the nation anymore pain, but then reluctantly picked up France's arm. He winced, but did not stir too badly. England opened the old nation's palm, revealing the snaking pattern of glittering gemstone.

" _You see that?_ " he asked, grinning slightly. " _Blue sapphire. Beautiful, isn't it?_ "

"You think I should be glad about this?" England asked, choking up a bit. "That you'll end up as block of this stuff? That I'll never be able to talk to you again?"

France's face fell, his eyes closed. Then, he opened them again, looking deep into his old adversary's.

" _Ne vous inquiétez pas, mon ami._ " He cooed. " _I'll make a fine centerpiece one day. Maybe some earrings for a pretty girl..._ "

"Don't say things like that!" England cried, growing angry with the dying nation. "This is serious!"

He laughed softly to himself, and soon, England's anger bubbled down.

"But you always had to be the show-off, didn't you?"

France's eyes twinkled, as if to agree, and England was suddenly aware of the servants presence in the room with them throughout his outburst.

"Right." he answered himself, clearing his throat. "But I guess I'll let you be for now. But before I go, I just wanted to say…well what I mean is…" He coughed several times, trying to choose the right words.

Slowly, France's hand reached out to his, and for a moment the two stood silent with each other.

" _All is forgiven, mon amour._ "

England squeezed his old time rival's hand tightly, tears silently making trails down his cheeks, and dripping delicately to the floor.

" _I-I'm so glad_." he said, through muffled sobs. "We've always fought, and-"

He let France's hand drop as the doors once again slammed open, this time Canada bursting in, Russia racing to catch up with him.

"Canada, I told you you're not allowed to be-"

" _Papa, Papa!_ " shouted Canada, ignoring Russia as he rushed to France's side. "Oh, why you?! Of all people in the world, why did it had to be you?!"

Russia continued to try and pry Canada from France's side, but he put up an uncharacteristic fight driven by near-hysteria. England felt as if his time with France had expired, though there was so much more he wanted to say to him. France had always been a part of England's life, even when all the other nations had abandoned him. Sure they had a turbulent history with each other, but he alone had always made the effort to interact with the isolated nation, even if it was just friendly nit-picking or criticism. The old frog's presence in his life had made it that much more meaningful, no matter how hard England tried to denied it.

And now, he may never be able to pick a fight with his old foe ever again.

England walked out of the room, escorted by Russia, who had given up on keeping Canada away. He was silent as they walked, emotionless, and England felt as if the air itself had chilled between the two. He was obviously mad that his orders were violated.

What had changed inside Russia? What had detached him from this world enough so that he could just walk right by a dying nation's bedside without even a single sympathetic look? He had even went as far as to try and restrict the dying nation's family from seeing him. England straightened his back, and shoved his hands into his pockets. His insides churned slightly, distorted from anxiety and despair. Every nation was important, no matter how the cold sociopath felt.

And England was not going to give up on a single one of them.


	7. Chapter 7: Defiance

A hobbled and exhausted nation crouched sleepily over his workspace, watching various alchemic reactions take place in the goo-filled beakers and test tubes bubbling over bunsen burners. He scratched his head, blinking lazily, and started to take notes in a small leather-bound notebook. England had been working day and night for three straight days, taking only short naps before resuming to his work. He desperately wanted to sleep, but could not bring himself to rest his tired head while there was still so much work to be done.

After carefully noting his newly created formula's ingredients in his notebook, England reached for a small test tube of ground moonstone to test its healing properties. Rubbing his eyes, yawning, he uncapped the tube and spilled half its contents into the bubbling concoction. At first, nothing happened; not visual chemical reactions took place. Sighing, England reached for his bottle of ink and quill to record scratch out the recipe. This would be the twenty-third failed experiment in the past two days.

Suddenly, just as England had his back turned to the failed potion, it started to froth, rapidly pouring over the rim of the the beaker, spilling multi-colored goop all over the table, extinguishing the fire and creeping towards the scattered textbooks that laid open across the table.

"No, no, no!" England cried, swiping his invaluable texts and precious notes onto the floor, and rushing to try and stop the goop with his own hands. He quickly grabbed a rag from the table behind him, and plunged it into the overflowing beaker, eventually stopping the flow, but not before becoming almost completely covered in remainder of the now green potion.

He cussed, wiping his front off of his shirt with the edge of a tablecloth, then slumping to the ground, breathing heavily. _That was close. Too close for comfort._ The ancient texts that surrounded the old nation were the only clues he had to understanding the mysterious curse. But even then, he was missing something. Looking through the texts was like looking through a dusty telescope; sure you could make out the fuzzy outlines of shapes and ideas, but the details: _the so miniscule, yet so important details_ were all missing.

Maybe he was just overworked.

Creative minds needed downtime to solve problems. It was pretty clear that England was frazzled, maybe even a little delusional. Overflowing with a stormy sea of emotions, he felt as if just a single word could tip him over the edge. A little sleep was well deserved, even he knew that. Even so, sleep was beginning to scare him. Sleep meant falling into an unconscious state, where the immortal soul could be free of its mortal body and freely wander about the astral plane. Sleep meant revisiting memories he wished to forget.

Unfortunately, if he did not get the proper amount of rest, his mind would become stale, and his research unsolvable. England scooted over to the to the scattered books and papers he had so haphazardly shoved to the floor. As he lifted an overturned text, little slips of yellowish paper began to fly out. Great, now the pages are falling out too. He sighed, and began stacking the other books in a neat pile next to him. Like the first book, their bookmarks and folded up footnotes had also slipped out, creating a confusion on where each should go. He delicately picked up a folded piece of paper, and examined its contents, looking for any context for where it had been before being knocked off the table.

The note read something about a myth, annotated notes handwritten in the margins and smeared in several places. Something about rhodochrosite, and how the Incas believed it was the frozen blood of kings and queens. England frowned, then picked up a book on Pre-Columbian America, thinking it may belong somewhere in among its contents. Interestingly enough, he found a section on Native American folklore, which had a passage about a chief with skin the color of turquoise who was running from his enemies through the hot desert. Whenever he stopped to rest, the beads of his sweat fell to the ground, collected in rocks, and became turquoise.

England bookmarked the unfamiliar passage, and then stood up, suddenly keen to look up more on turquoise. He had never really considered its properties before, always leaning more towards the more traditional ingredients for healing elixirs, like ground onyx or powdered asphodel. Picking out a book from his pile about rocks and gems, he flipped to the section on turquoise, and was surprised to find that its folklore was more extensive than he had originally thought:

The Pima considered turquoise to bring strength and good fortune and that it helped overcome illness.

The Zuni believed that turquoise protected them from demons.

In Hopi legend, a lizard that travels between the Above and the Below and excretes turquoise.

The Apache believed that attaching turquoise to a weapon would improve its accuracy and that by wearing turquoise, it would prevent them from a fall or breaking a bone. They also believed that putting turquoise on a horse's bridle or in its mane would ensure that the horse would be sure-footed.

The Pueblos thought that the color of turquoise was stolen from the sky.

And Finally, the Navajos believed that they would be blessed with rain by throwing a piece of turquoise into a river while praying to the rain gods.

England raised his eyebrows, trying to remember when was the last time he he had used turquoise. It was common enough, and not as rare as some of the other ingredients in his vast collection. Momentarily forgetting about sleep, England stood up, and walked over to the supply cabinet of his alchemic chamber. Just as he assumed, a hunk of raw turquoise sat in the back of the cabinet, hardly touched, and partially hidden behind some bottles. He moved them away, and removed the stone, bringing it to his workspace where he wiped down the table and relit the bunsen burner.

Using a small hammer and chisel, he chipped away a fragment of the stone, revealing a lovely greenish blue tint inside. Then, he proceeded to drop it into his grinder, and crushed it until nothing was left but a fine powder. Draco sanguinem and splintered arboris radix would be the base of the potion. Amber and magnetite would ease the internal sufferings of the curse's victims, while red coral and hematite would keep the blood from freezing up. _What else?_

The only true way for the potion to work, would be to mix in some of the blood and gem samples he had taken from Italy. Healing potions worked in the way an antibody picking up on an antigen to identify a virus or a bloodhound smelling a missing person's shirt to pick up on their scent. They needed identification for what they were fighting only problem was, England was running low on samples. He dreaded the thought of returning to France one last time only to dissect him like a common frog. He just couldn't bear it.

He realized that time was running low for the old nation, and if there was any chance of England discovering a cure in time, he must use the rest of his precious samples. Gracefully, his fingers moved across the ingredients like that of an artist's, shaping his masterpiece not in the studio or kitchen, but between beakers and cauldrons, surrounded by the crackling pops and sickly-sweet fumes of brewing potions. It was beautiful, rhythmic synchrony, and soon, he felt himself coming back to life, energy revived by the new and improving conditions of his experiments.

And then, it was done. England held his breath as he flipped off the flame, and sprinkled the tinus pinch of moonstone into the bubbling honey-gold mixture. _Poof_ , a bubble exploded upwards, turning the potion a pale lavender, and releasing the soothing fragrance of cinnamon and incest.

England ran his fingers through his hair, grinning ear to ear. In that moment he felt as if he had regained a century of life lost to failure and despair, and was filled with a giddy vigor of a younger boy he once knew.

"I did it!" he said aloud, even though he did not entirely know for sure. "I did it, I did it!"

He danced around his laboratory, clapping and bumping into things. After long, tedious hours of repetitive testing, he had finally made progress in his research. No other experiment had responded positively to the moonstone before, which proved whether or not the potion had magical properties. That was the first step. There was still a long way to go, full of dangerous and unpredictable experiments in which he tested if it was safe for use or not, but even that didn't faze the excited nation. He hastily dialed his cell phone, wanting to share the grand news of his breakthrough.

"Romania!" he cried into the phone. "Guess what I did!"

There was some muffled reply at the other end of the line.

"No, you git! I found the key to reversing whatever kind of curse this is! Well, not completely, since it hasn't been field-tested yet, but-"

Suddenly, England felt himself sway, blood roaring in his ears and pounding against his skull. His legs collapsed from underneath him, and he began to fell violently ill.

" _England? England, you still there?_ " Romania's voice rang out, as the phone slid from England's hand and fell to the floor with a _thud_.

He grimaced in the unbearable pain. It was as if someone had sliced open the bottom half of his torso, while shoving pins down his throat. He began hacking, trying to dislodge something sharp in his throat. The only thing he was able to cough up was blood. _What's happening?_ he thought in horror. Surely he could not have fallen victim to the curse next, could he? _Why now?_ He thought through the excruciating pain that ripped through him. _Why me? I was so close._

Was it too late? Had all his research and experiments been for nothing?

England could still hear Romania's panicked voice at the end of the line.

If he was already becoming affected, it must be too late for France. Why not just stop the suffering now, while he was still vulnerable flesh and blood? England's vision began to blur as he violently vomited, and time seemed to slow done in its tracks. That would be the easy way, of course, but if he died now, who would be next to fall victim to the curse? _Russia? Japan? Germany?_

 _America?_

The very thought made him shudder. He would never let America experience pain like this.

England propped himself up, the little movement making him even more dizzy than before, and grasped the end of the table. He was shaking furiously, unable to see clearly anymore.

The last thing England saw before blacking out: the lavender colored beaker, and his hand groping for it in defiance.


	8. Chapter 8: Choices

" _...And today, I am sad to announce, that France has been completely turned to gemstone…_ "

The solemn but much anticipated line started the world meeting. Russia's sources had just confirmed the inevitable, and the nations were called together to mourn the loss of their ally and friend.

It should have been sad. They _wanted_ it to be sad; but tears would not come. Their very beings were deprived of emotion, for the pain had just grown too strong to bear normally anymore. It dug into their hearts like a silent knife, cutting deeper in every quiet moment. Grimly, they wondered who would be next, though no one wanted to ask out loud. Not even death could save the nations before the creeping curse got to them, for nations cannot die by mundane means, nor do they have mortal souls that could save them from the agony. The lucky nations dissolved along with their borders, but others, like China, that still had a fully-functioning market and government…

Well they were imprisoned here on Earth until the end.

The suggestion of a proper burial came from Russia, the last person the others expected to hear it from.

"It's only fitting that they be remembered." he said, laying out some documents across the table. "China, Italy, France; they deserve a proper burial, a national monument dedicated to each. Maybe in a way, a proper goodbye will be enough to dissolve them."

"What?" England argued, who had been standing quietly in the corner, preferring not to sit down with the rest of the group. "You can't do that! I still haven't been granted permission to examine their bodies!"

"Why would you?" Russia exclaimed, fumbling. "There's no body left to examine!"

"I'm _trying_ to find a cure to this bloody curse!" England shouted, taking a few step towards Russia, confronting him. "Don't you want me to be able to solve it before another one of us falls ill."

Russia snorted. "Like you have made any progress so far? What about those samples you took from Italy? What did you do with those."

England's face fell as he paled considerably. "Wha-"

Russia's eyes darkened, his whole form radiating a menacing aura. "Yes, I know about how you _defiled_ his body. _I've seen the marks._ How stupid do you think I am, you _chertovski ryvok_?"

Japan covered his mouth with his hand, eyes wide as America gasped. Germany stood as silent, his whole body shaking.

"I. _..I knew it._ " he said, voice barely above a low mutter yet with enough venom to kill a man. "I never should have left you alone with Italia." His voice rose, as he continued to shout at England. _Couldn't you see that he was already suffering enough?!"_

Fora moment the Brit almost looked pitiful, weak and full of remorse. Then, his features became distorted with anger, as he spat in their faces: " _You just don't want to bring them back, do you?_ Yes, its true that I took samples from the brothers, but I did what I had to do."

"How dare you speak to me that way!" Russia exclaimed, shoving England in the chest, pushing him back a few feet. " _You think I wanted this to happen?_ "

England coughed hoarsely, but continued to yell. "Well it would make world domination a lot easier for you, wouldn't it? With all of us gone, you could take over any land you want! In fact, I bet _you're the one_ who started this whole thing, aren't you?"

Russia advanced on the nation, puny compared to his hulking mass. "You little-!"

He proceeded to grab England by the collar and pick up a small vase, intending to smash it on him. Suddenly, America jumped into action, weaving in between the two and pushing them away from each other, and then smacking the vase to the floor, where it shattered, scattering razor sharp fragments all over the rug.

"Cut it out!" he cried forcefully, shooting lethal stares between the two, which he kept separated by spreading his arms out, hunched over and making sure neither could get past him.

"No matter what England did matters now. If we start fighting amongst ourselves now, we'll get nowhere, _and then everyone will die_."

America's words left England and Russia speechless, still casting deadly glares at one another. Everyone was silent.

"America's right." He finally said, breathlessly. "The only way to break the curse is to work together." he knitted his eyebrows even further. "But you and I both know _damn well_ that I'm the only one here qualified to do it."

Russia did not answer, only glared daggers in his direction.

America sighed. "Great. For the time being, we're not going to do anything with the bodies until we reach a compromise, okay?"

England and Russia nodded grimly, eyes still locked murderously, with their arms crossed.

Russia did not trust England with the bodies, especially that of China's. To give them up just to be torn apart and experimented on would be a sin in itself. Who knew what England was doing behind the closed doors of his alchemic laboratory? What if he had already found a cure, but was just not sharing with the others? Could he really be that merciless and selfish not to share his discoveries with the others? The nations had deceived their friends in the past; who's to say that England was not involved in some devilish ploy to get rid of his fellow nations by casting the devilish curse in the first place? He was the most experienced in black magic after all. It should be a cinch for someone as old and experienced as himself.

Russia was ripped away from his thoughts as he heard a sudden exclamation of surprise from Japan. The other nations turned their heads, to look down at Germany, who had suddenly became very pale, and was holding his head between his clenched hands in pain.

"Germany-san?" He said, frightened. "Germany-san, what's wrong? Can you stand?"

He muttered something indecipherable, as he fell on to Japan's shoulder for support, who stiffed up in surprise.

"Germany-san! Oh my, what's happening?!"

"He's next." England said grimly, walking over to the unstable German's side as Japan helped him into an armchair. "Headaches, shortness of breath. I don't suppose he's been under the weather these last few day, has he?"

"Yes, but we all just assumed it was brought on by grief." Japan responded. "But-"

"Not this time." He said, crouching down to Germany's eye level and, shaking his head. "What really concerns me now is how quietly it can sneak up on you. Anyone of us can be carrying the curse _right now_ and not even realize it until it's too late."

Germany's eyelids fluttered. He began to cough into his fist, looking back up to meet England's eyes. He already was aware of his impending doom, and for once in his life, looked genuinely horrified. England had to try hard not to let his true emotions play across his face as his began to finger in his trouser pocket.

Two vials, one a lovely lavender, the other a striking gold.

One an unfinished elixir, the other a powerful sedative.

There was only enough in each to last two or three days at the most, and that was only for one person. He had to decide.

Save himself, and continue his research, or postpone the death of a fellow nation.

Even though it would take strength to suppress his guilt inside, England knew what he had to do. His fingers stopped moving in his pocket, then proceeded to pull out the second vial.

"Here," he said, offering the gold liquid to Germany. "I'm afraid this is all I have. Take a few drops when you get home, then ask your servants to spoonfeed you the same amount every six hours or so."

"W-what is it?" he asked through a blurred vision.

"Sleeping medicine." England said, before turning away and walking out of the conference room.

"It'll numb the pain."


	9. Chapter 9: Emerald

America arrived at Germany's house the next day with England, Russia, and Japan. The Germanic and Nordic countries were all there too, outside Germany's sleeping quarters, huddling in tight groups for support, faces hidden. Prussia was no where to be found. He was probably behind the closed doors, comforting his brother. Americ heard the whispers, Germany was a victim to the peridot. He was close to passing on now. It was as if Germany had lost all will to survive. Maybe there was nothing left to live for? More likely, the curse was just getting stronger. If it was developing faster, it could mean bad news for the remaining members of the G8. How long would it take for all of them to die?

America felt as if he had been pondering this question too many times over the past week or so. This was not right: he was in his prime, a world power to be admired! He had worked so long and hard to be able to gain this much influence, and now, he had to worry about it all being taken away? What was the point of representing a country if you could not even enjoy its wealth and power?

It just wasn't fair.

While he was contemplating all this, Prussia appeared in the doorway, eyes red and glazed, cheeks splotchy, and hair tousled.

"I just gave him another round of sedative." he said, closing the door silently behind him. He sniffled loudly, then cleared his throat. "I don't think there's much any of you can say to him now." Prussia's voice cracked, and suddenly, tears began to fill his eyes once again. He was comforted by Hungary and Austria, along with the other nations who had been standing in the waiting area outside his room.

It was funny actually, that in times of despair, even those who did not trust each other under normal circumstances would join hands in peace.

In the end, the nations were not just borders or politics or trading partners or enemies.

They were people.

And people stuck together.

America and England were the last to leave the house, preferring to lollygag behind so as not to run into Russia or his followers. England seemed to be on edge, almost _dizzy_ from his eyes darting frantically. America had wanted to speak with England in privacy for some time now. He had the feeling that England was withholding something from the others, _especially_ the ever present presence of Russia.

"So how's the research coming? " he inquired, trying to make eye contact with the brit.

England didn't respond, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, so you're doing good then." America said, frowning slightly.

"You could say that."

They walked for a moment, not saying anything else.

" _Is there anything you could tell me about your research?_ " he suddenly asked, cocking his head towards England.

England turned his body away coldly. "Nothing that you would know about."

"Oh." he responded dryly, growing even more annoyed.

After another pause, he said, "So, you seem _pretty eager_ to get those bodies, _don't you_? Why might that be?"

"America, I told you, it's nothing you would understand, now _leave me alone_."

"You are trying to help us? You wouldn't withhold anything from us, would you?"

England did not respond.

"Well would you?" America demanded, pulling England back to him so he would stop trying t walk away. "You wouldn't just let Germany die, would you?!"

"America, please." England said, trying to keep a steady voice.

"No, no. I want to know: _what are you actually planning to do with those bodies?_ Cut them up and hoard more antidotes for yourself?"

"America, it's not like that! You know I would never do anything as low-"

"But would you, England? _Is that really true?_ You know, I've had my suspicions about you for a while now. But you know why I never said anything? Because _I trust you_ dammit. _I trust you._ Or _trusted,_ anyway."

"America, please, you don't understand-"

"We will stop this." America said, making a swiping motion with his arm. "Me, and Japan, and Russia, and all the other countries are gonna survive this curse, _whether you help us or not._ "

With that, he briskly turned his back on his former ally, and started to walk back down the hall.

"America," England cried, running a few steps to try and catch up with him. "Wait a mo-"

 _Uck._ The old Brit's head swarmed, and his balance wobbled. He faltered, falling on to one knee, head spinning like mad. America turned, scowling. As soon as he laid eyes on England, his anger instantly dissipated and replaced itself concern

"England?" he asked feebly, suddenly quiet.

England didn't respond, only sinking his head lower to avoid America's gaze, and hands trembling to cover his mouth. _Damn, he had not taken the elixir in three hours._

"E-England?" America said once more, this time his voice barely above a whisper as he nervously approached the man.

England's shoulders heaved up and down, his breathing heavy and labored. _Please go away, please go away, please go away,_ his mind frantically pleaded, wishing he could disappear before America realized what was happening.

"England, what's wrong!" America demanded, this time shouting his question at the top of his lungs, while grabbing hold of the Brit's shoulders.

 _Blench._ As soon as America made contact, England regurgitated into his hands. America jumped back, horrified for his friend, and his own safety. England heaved dryly into his hands, hacking horribly like a dying man, crippled by age and disease. But England wasn't that man. He was young and energetic and fit. Even the plague itself couldn't reduce his spirits to the likes of this.

"No." America muttered, his voice steadily growing louder. "No, no, no,no, NO!"

He couldn't take this, it was the young nation's worst nightmare coming true. But he had to confirm it.

"England." he ordered. "I demand you to uncover your face."

England didn't budge, but instead just shook his head solemnly, like a child.

"England." He repeated, voice cracking. "I demand you to show me your face, _or I will do it for you_."

The nation was still for a moment, breathing somewhat leveled. He took a shaky breath. "I really rather you didn't see, America."

"I said _now_." he shoot back, almost instantly, furious.

Another pause. "Amer-"

"Now England."

He took another shuddering breath, and slowly raised his face to America. The moment he laid eyes on England, time seemed to slow. In his hands, although masked in a coating of saliva and mucus, were emeralds, finely cut and polished, fit for a king. America's heart beat so rapidly when he looked into his friend's eyes, that he was sure that it would burst.

His face was a sorrowful mess, eyelids puffy, cheeks a dangerous shade of pink, floppy hair getting caught in the thin strings of saliva that hung from his lips. A pitiful sight for the great British empire; especially the one whose greatness was once unmatched. America fell down to his knees at the sight of him in despair. It was all too much, he couldn't handle this any longer.

"This can't be!" he wailed, face burning hot from emotions he couldn't comprehend. He slammed his fists down on to the floor. "You can't be next! Arthur I need you!"

England dared a frail smile at his nickname from America's childhood. It had been so long since he had heard the nation call him by it. The very sound brought back sweet memories from earlier days. It was quite pleasant to be reminded of happier times in moments like these.

"Oh, Alfred." he uttered. " _Its okay._ "

America hung his head, obviously trying to obscure England's view of his tear strewn face.

England's gaze wavered, eyes seeming to fade as he looked at America. Now that he knows, he will no doubt tell Russia about it. _All my research, all my effort._ It would all be useless to him under sedative. From here on out, nothing but slow agony awaited him as his insides slowly shut down one by one before solidifying into gemstone.

 _This is it._

 _The final chapter._

 _The last king to reign._

America looked up from the ground and at the dying nation instead. He took his friend's hands into his own, and clasped them tightly. The two held hands for a minute, and hung their heads.

"Listen to me America." he said, voice barely above a whisper. America leaned in closer, enough to see the dark green ringlets that swirled in his eyes.

"I've been looking into how to reverse this curse, not just prevent it. I've been scouring through every archive, library, and archaeological research facility I could find. Now, I think I've finally found the answers to our questions."

"What do you mean, England?" he said, sniffling.

"America, _I think I've found the cure._ "

His eyes grew wide. "Then why-"

England dug the bottle out of his pocket, and waved it in America's face. Then, he unscrewed the top, and poured a quick stream into his mouth. He gasped, choking slightly on the burning liquid as it slid down his throat.

"Look, this is all I have, and it can only stall the effects. According to my research, I need fragments of _all_ the gem victims, plus a drop of blood from each who come after them."

" _There's an order?_ "

He sighed in exasperation. "I'll explain more later, in the meantime, you _cannot_ tell anyone about my condition. _Especially_ not Russia."

For once, America did not argue.

"Great. For this, I'm going to need your help."

He nodded.

"Tell me what do I need to do."


	10. Chapter 10: Mission

America loaded up the unmarked van with all the necessaries for the mission.

First was the computers, so that mission control, aka Romania and Norway could keep in touch through special headsets and video monitors. Next was the special chisel and gem polish, so that he would be able to remove small pieces of gem without defining the whole thing too badly. Last was the fake IDs, giving the American and his partner access to the Russian containment facility, where the gemstones were being kept.

All without Russia knowing the slightest.

"Time to roll." his partner announced. The woman was young with dark skin and short hair pulled back and hidden under a cap.

She seemed familiar for some reason, but America could not put his finger on it. England himself had assembled the operation, picking only those that he most trusted to carry out the mission while he was unable to do so. England's whereabouts were being closely monitored by Russia, and they all agreed that it would be safest for him to stay out of the spotlight for a while.

The team pulled up to the first line of defense. Russia had stored the gemstones in a high-security military base. To even get within a mile of the facility, security clearances were needed. The only way to get in was through the designated security stops, where their IDs, along with their van would be checked. Everywhere else was surrounded by barbed wire and guards; all of this while cameras secretly recorded their every move. It was state of the art. Only the elite could ever think of stepping foot here.

Good thing they fit those standards quite nicely.

As they pulled up to the first checkpoint, he and his partner quickly pulled on pairs of dark sunglasses and serious expressions. Both were already dressed in business suits, complete with expensive ties and loafers. Romania and Norway hid in the back, watching the feed from secretly enabled spy cameras in their glasses.

" _Identifikatsiya_." a man asked in Russian from the bulletproof booth he sat in.

America and the woman did not even bat an eye as they pulled out matching leather wallets, showing the man the professionally faked IDs inside.

He raised an eyebrow. The couple did not look Russian. Maybe they were representatives here to discuss the mysterious events that had been centered around the personifications of allies in the past two weeks? That's funny, he did not remember ever being told to expect foreigners coming to the facility.

Just as he man in the booth began to tell them to wait while he placed a phone call to his higher ups, he suddenly felt a wave of dizziness fall over him. He stumbled, the phone that had been mounted on the wall still in his hand, and fell to the floor, unconscious.

"Good job Roma." Norway muttered under his breath from the back of the van.

The switches began to glow a faint green inside the booth, before the gates opened, and the van was ushered in.

The next person to meet them was a lean male worker in military attire and a clipboard. Three German shepherds were held back by handlers as they walked along the premises if the van, sniffing.

The worker asked for identification once again, and the team was happy to see that, once again, their little charade worked. The worker was not without suspicions however. Visits from an agents with American names such as _Alfred F. Jones,_ and _Tamika_ _Flynn_ were never a good sign.What kind of game were they playing?

He started to order something in Russian about checking the van when he, along with the handlers, began to feel a nausea similar to the man in the booth. Then, after a moment of dizziness, it passed. He shook his head. _What was he doing, again?_

Whatever it was must not have been too important, because the worker rounded up the handlers, and let the van drive by, as if it had already been checked.

"All according to plan." America murmured as they successfully crossed through the last checkpoint and back behind the building, where there were less prying eyes.

"Alright." Norway said, taking out two earpieces for the dual to use. "We'll keep in touch from here. You're going to give us visuals using the cameras in your glasses. _Don't lose them._ Back here we'll guide you through the building, and unlock the restricted areas from the outside. You have about ten minutes before the workers will be alerted that your cards are invalid. If you two aren't out by then- "

"Yeah, yeah." America said, waving his hand. "Flashing lights, blow horns, the Russian mafia, I got it."

"You have to be more careful than that, sir." Tamika scolded.

America tapped his foot impatiently. "I just wanna go already, we're wasting time. England's probably running out of medicine as we speak!"

 _Medicine_ , the word America used to refer to the special elixir that was currently the only thing keeping England alive. The others nodded solemnly in agreement as they made last minute adjustments to their gear in silence. England needed gem _and_ blood samples for his elixir to take on its healing effect, and it was quite clear that he wasn't getting the latter. If this mission didn't succeed, everything England had tirelessly worked on was in vain. Not even Romania or Norway was knowledgeable enough in curse reversing as he was. This was their last chance to fix things.

They walked fast, and looked straight ahead, not wanting to make eye contact and draw unnecessary attention to themselves. America swiped his security clearance card at the elevator, while Tamika scanned the room so Norway could examine the feed.

"Good." He narrated in a hushed over their earpieces. "Now once you get into the elevator, there will be an eye scanner in the top left corner. Take off your glasses, and look into it for three seconds while it scans your retinas. Romania hack to system from the information your cards extracted and disable the security before the elevator goes into lockdown."

America clenched his fists as the elevator's doors began to close, then pressed the button to take them down to -4B level.

"Calm down, sir. " Tamika said, folding up her glasses and looking directly into the small mounted camera. "Romania will make sure the security feed is looped. We won't even be on camera."

" _Its not that._ " He murmured as a red laser was aimed down from the roof of the elevator and over their faces.

She didn't respond as the laser was finished scanning them and clicked off.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. The dual stepped out into a series of hallways composed of smooth, cold gray walls. The air was frosty, the hum of central air echoing through the empty corridors.

"I thought there would be more people down here." America mumbled, looking around cautiously.

"Weren't you listening before at the briefing?" Tamika said, emotionless as a worker dressed in navy blue walked past them. "The Russians keep actual human intervention to a minimal; for search reasons, of course. Almost everything is electronically operated. I've broken into operations like this before, the main reason for all this is so that information is less likely to be leaked to the general public."

"Looks like Russia's been trying keeping us in the dark about all this. He wouldn't even disclose the location to the others. I bet the workers here don't even know what they're protecting. "

All was true. Russia had taken every measure available to keep England from ever having contact with the gemstones. Even though he had said nothing to make it apparent that he was now working with England, Russia suspected America for conspiring against his ruling. Despite his blatant disregard to any accusations relating to the curse being used for his own personal gain, Russia's wealth and power had been accumulating more and more as he began to weasel his influences into the Chinese government. The situation was turning into a power play, and Russia was profiting greatly from it. That fact fact made him even more eager to keep it that way, thus rejecting England's proposal to study the bodies, or, "gemstones" as they had been more recently dubbed.

He would not even release information to Japan, who decided not to take England's side.

She nodded. "He's a paranoid man. Paranoid men do paranoid things."

They came to a thick metal door at the end if the twisting corridor. A small, frosted window on it bore the words: **CAUTION: LEVEL 7 MILITARY PERSONNEL ONLY** in Russian. Tamika swiped her card on a pad mounted on the wall, and they heard a faint click from inside the room. America checked his wristwatch.

"And the ten minutes begins... _now._ Lets go."

Frosty air stung their skin as the pair of agents stepped into the containment room. They found each of the gemstones, spread out along the walls, covered in tarps, separated by glass cases. Tamils shut the door behind them as America pulled on a pair of throwaway gloves and a box of Ziploc bags. He got to work immediately, chipping off chunks of heavy gems from the statues, trying not to look direcrly at their lifeless eyes, or tgink about the people he had once known.

 _Don't worry guys,_ he thought. _I'll save all of you. We'll find a way, I'm the hero after all._

" _Hur...up_." said Norway, his voice crackling with static. " _Fi...in...eft._ "

"Repeat that?" America said, pausing to fix his earpiece.

"The thick walls down here are interfering with the signal." Tamika explained, tapping here's repeatedly.

" _Car...ired...hur...up!_ "

"What?" he asked again, placing the last bag in his jacket pocket.

"The card's expired!" Tamika said. "We have to go _, now_."

"Shit! Why didn't you say anything, ice cube!"

They flung open the door and ran. Footsteps echoed on the smooth concrete floors in the distance. A worker let out an exclamation of surprise as he chased after them, into the elevator. Luckily, the door shut just in time, and the two were momentarily safe. _Hurry up. Hurry up._

The doors let out a _ding_ as the Americans dashed to the exit.

 _They were going to make it! Just a little farther-_

Slam! The heavy doors shut with a deafening echo. Suddenly, a horrible sound, much like blow horns, filled the air as it suddenly became dark, red emergency lights flashing and spinning. Voices began to shout out loudly over the alarms, and the footsteps grew closer.

"Crap! We're trapped!" growled Tamika, clenching her fists. "This is the Strexco. incident all over again!"

"Hey! Operator!" he cried into his earpiece. "A little help here?!"

The voice came back through the muffle of static, but still clear enough to decipher. " _Well maybe if you two had picked up the pace we wouldn't be in this situation right now!_ "

"Well-"

This time Romania's voice came over the frequency. " _Just shut up and get out of the way._ "

Suddenly, the doors, along with the whole north wall, exploded in a green eruption. The oncoming workers who had just a moment before crossed the into the room where blown back, smacking against the walls. Tamika and America, who had been crouching in down for protection, sprung to their feet and dashed towards the smoking hole in the wall, where, amongst the chaos, the blurry shape of the unmarked van had appeared.

The back doors were flung open by Romania, as he shouted to them and waved his arms to usher them in. Just as America had pulled his leg in and closed the door, he heard the metallic _ching_ of bullets bouncing off the door. The van sped into motion, everyone in the back being tossed around like rag dolls.

"Wait!" shouted America over the commotion. "If we're back here, _who's driving_?!"

"That would be me." Norway said, knocking on the window that allowed him to see the back of the van. "Now hang on tight."


	11. Chapter 11: Obsession

"Russia, slow down and think about what you're doing."

The nation paused a moment,looking away from the live feed of England's house that his intelligence officers had rigged a few days before. He turned his head around to make eye contact with the Asian country who had just entered the room, looking serious.

"I thought I told you to go home." He responded, turning back to the multiple television sets glowing in the darkened room. His sun choked skin glowed an eerie blue in the artificial light.

"This has gone on long enough," Japan said, ignoring Russia's menacing words. "How long do you plan to sit here, watching him?"

"How ever long it takes."

Japan's frown grew, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But why? Do you even have any proof that he's up to anything? From what I've seen, it just looks like he's moping around indoors. If I'd have to guess, I'd say this man is feeling depressed, much less motivated."

Russia scoffed. "No proof?" He picked up a document laying on the table next to him and held it out to Japan. "Look at these." He said, eyes still glued intently to the monitor.

"What is this?" Japan asked, flipping through the stapled together papers and squirting in the dim light. "A security breach? What does this have to do with anything? "

Russia flipped the page with his index finger. "Look where it took place."

Japan's eyes grew. He covered his mouth in shock. "Wait, England couldn't have possibly done this! He was at home at the time of the breach! This must have been a coincidence-"

"He had accomplices, a whole group of them to do his bidding for us. Don't you see?" His voice steadily grew louder, then cut off, speaking almost in a whisper. "Our own allies have rallied against us. We've been betrayed from the inside."

"You can't prove that."Japan argued. "America-san and the others would never vandalize a facility behind your back. Why can't you trust anyone?"

Russia leaned back in his chair, and slowly spun himself to meet Japan's eyes once more.

" _Trust?_ When has trust ever gotten you anywhere, Japan? You've been cheated, used, led on with false promises. And now you're telling me, that _I_ should trust the others, just because we're fellow countries? 's really funny"

Russia's words rolled over the nation, slamming into him repeatedly, like a bulldozer of words. Was it that wrong to trust the others? Was it wise? Who's to say that they hadn't already broken into his own facilities? It wouldn't be the first Russia's logic was right in some way.

Then again, maybe it wasn't. He was being to see enemies everywhere, boxing himself in and refusing to listen to any justifiable points. Maybe Russia believed that if he gave them all a common enemy, he would be able to keep his superiority over the others. It was his words versus everyone theirs.

Japan wanted to believe, he really did, that England was not the greedy King Minos Russia made him out to be. He wanted to believe even more that his friends would never pull an operation behind his back. Didn't they trust him enough to at least _inform_ him of their plans, much less _discuss_ it with him? His insides churned, had he missed breakfast again? He did not want to be excluded again. Not wanting to be forgotten by those of importance to him. Not wanting to be left out again.

"Even so," he said, voice cracking slightly. "You have no proof that America and the others were involved in this."

Russia squinted at him, and shrugged, flipping through the document to the witness reports.

"Two reported suspects." He said, translating from Russian as he read. "One, female, African American, wearing a suit with glasses and cap. The other, male, Caucasian, blond, also wearing a suit and tinted glasses."

"That could be anybody. " he argued back stubbornly.

Russia raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well, it must also be a coincidence that the male's name was reportedly _Alfred F. Jones_ , of the United State embassy."


End file.
